Diva

Chapter 4

“Bravo!” The movie theater audience erupted in applause as the last chords of Bellini’s La Sonnambula faded. My heart pounded in rhythm with the clapping hands. My throat constricted and my eyes burned as a rush of emotions welled up inside me—not all of them good. That could have been me singing just as we did when Nicole performed it with us in Santa Fe.

Again, the nagging reminder of what might have been.

Some kinds of music bypassed all my safety valves and tore me open. This particular performance and Nicole Bernard seared my senses. Judging by the enthusiastic energy around me, I wasn’t alone.

My friend Liz let go of my arm. “I have never seen anything so incredible! It was wonderful—the music, the costumes, all of it. Thank you so much. Meg Ellis, you are just the best friend for making me come along. And wasn’t Amina amazing? Her voice is mesmerizing.”

“I know, this is the same show we did together when I was apprenticing in Santa Fe with different staging. I loved it then. Nicole Bernard is by far the most amazing performer around—singer, actor, and dancer.”

“Really? Now I see why you were so smitten. No wonder you loved working with her.” She grinned slyly.

Jeez. That’s an understatement. “True. She’s so gifted and generous with new young singers. Whenever we had some extra time she would help us individually, or even give small master classes.”

We trailed along with the slow-moving crowd exiting the theater. Liz engaged a woman behind her in the rapture of the moment. I felt relieved and excited because one of my closest friends had finally attended one of the Met HD performances with me. Plus, the experience evoked some warm memories. The HD series was new but incredibly popular with opera lovers and regular moviegoers. Live broadcasts from the Metropolitan Opera for twenty bucks were hard to beat.

It took about fifteen minutes to exit the multiplex, and Liz and I agreed it was too late to stop anywhere for a bite to eat. It was after eleven and Liz had to work in the morning.

“I’m glad we had a chance to get together,” I said as we embraced.

“Me too. It’s always good to see you, Meg. Be careful driving back to Santa Fe.”

“I’m going to stay at my folks’ house tonight. I’ll head back to Santa Fe in the morning. Take care, Liz.”

It was less than a mile to my parents’ house, and I parked on the street so they could get out in the morning. The back door was unlocked for me and I could hear Murphy’s tail wagging before I was halfway in the door.

“Hi, girl,” I whispered as she nuzzled me. “I know, I’m glad to see you too. Let’s go upstairs.”

After getting ready for bed, I slipped between the soft, clean-smelling sheets as Murphy jumped up in front of me and curled up. I wrapped one arm around her and rubbed her belly. My meager energy stores faded as I stroked the dog’s silky fur and thought back to when we got her.

While going through cancer treatment two years earlier, I had stayed with my parents. Since they both worked, they wanted me to have a companion. The three-year-old Labrador retriever became more than a companion. She was my best friend during one of the most horrible periods of my life.

Moonlight danced across my heavy eyelids and Murphy’s breathing became slower and deeper. The fur on her neck carried the scent of freshly cut grass, and my breathing began to match hers.

When I awoke, the bed was empty and the house smelled like cinnamon. I dressed and went downstairs to find a note:

Good morning sweetie. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to visit with you but I had an early student.

I made your favorite cinnamon rolls and there is fresh coffee in the carafe.

Call me later and tell me what you thought about the opera. The New York Times raved!

I love you,

Mom

The phone was ringing when I unlocked my front door, and I tripped over my tote bag reaching for the phone. s**t. “Hello?” I said, juggling the receiver. Pearson, my cat, took the phone call as a cue and began to rub against my knees, meowing.

“Hello, this is Thad Allen from the Santa Fe Opera. May I speak with Margaret Ellis?”

“This is she.”

“Ms. Ellis, I’m calling you because of your previous association with our apprentice program. Something new came up this summer—a kind of situation—and we started brainstorming…well, your name came up. If you’re available, we might be able to use your help.”

My imagination went wild trying to imagine why this venerated opera company would want to talk to me. “Gosh, I’m flattered. What kind of situation is it and what would it entail?”

The young man at the other end of the phone laughed a little nervously. “I don’t want to sound like this is all cloak and dagger, but it is a rather sensitive matter and…it would be better to speak with you in person. Is there any chance you could come for a meeting?”

“I think so, when did you want to do this?”

“Would tomorrow afternoon be too early? Maybe come around three or four?”

I sat down hard on the stool at the counter. What could possibly be so important that he needed to see me immediately? I was intrigued. “That would work.”

Memories flooded back of the two years I worked as an apprentice. Some of my happiest memories remained linked to the people I met and the friendships I formed during that time. It was during those two summers that my dream of becoming an opera singer was born, I met the woman who would become my partner, and I studied with a remarkable singer who would become my idol—the same one I watched perform last night.

Just getting the phone call brought back a rush of emotions. In all honesty, there was nothing wrong with my job as a school nurse; I loved the kids, I had the summers off, and it paid decently. It just hadn’t been my dream. I studied nursing as a means to my goal of a reliable career. “Guess I’ll find out tomorrow. Right, Pearson?” I reached down and stroked his back.

Then the overfilled laundry basket got my attention. “Pearson, weren’t you going to handle this?”

After I started the first load, I tackled the stack of mail and unpaid bills on my kitchen counter.

“Of what possible interest could I be to the Santa Fe Opera all these years later?” I asked my disinterested cat who was lying comfortably on the newspapers strewn artistically on the table.

The drive north from Santa Fe to Tesuque, home of the fabled Santa Fe Opera, went quickly as my brain conjured dozens of different scenarios from grand theft—for taking part of my costume, a rehearsal skirt—to offering me a job because of the superb work I did as an apprentice. But surely they had notes in their records about why I left the company, so that couldn’t be it.

The name Thad Allen didn’t ring a bell. He must be one of the new underlings in Creative Services. I didn’t keep up with many of the people I knew and it’d been more than three years since I worked there. Of course there would be changes in personnel.

I drove slowly through the upper parking lot toward the pavilion and stopped, putting the car in Park as memories flooded back. I smiled. This parking lot had been the site of my first make-out session with a girl. A girl I went home with after our second date. How long were we necking like teenagers in that Chevy Blazer the first night? Long enough, I guess.

The trees on either side of the parking lot were beginning to bud out because of the warm spring weather. The groundskeepers were repairing the damage from the winter snows and brutal winds, which ripped across the mesa. The beautiful sail-shaped roof panels on the pavilion not only lent a dramatic air to the mesa-topped theater, they also collected rainwater that the crew used in the landscaping.

The scene felt almost subdued today. It was as though a dead calm enveloped the large sailing ship and stranded her in a windless sea. In a short time, this whole area would be bustling with activity and sound. I felt a small ripple of energy run through me remembering the excitement.

I’d been so happy during those summers, and it was where I met Bekka, my first serious relationship. I swallowed hard as my chest tightened recalling our ugly breakup. I quickly put the car in Drive, steered around the east side and down the hill to the offices.

Parking the car in front, I found the handsome Mr. Allen waving from the door waiting for me. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-three years old with blond, gelled hair combed back and a gold stud in his left ear. His sharp navy blue slacks and crisp pink oxford shirt made me feel sloppy. He had just the right combination of sculpted good looks and boyish enthusiasm.

His neat appearance made me glad I had my hair cut recently, but my khaki pants and short-sleeved black shirt looked somewhat casual compared to Thad. He ignored my outfit and enthusiastically reached for my hand. I liked him immediately.

“I’m so glad you could make it.” He pumped my hand briskly.

“I’m glad to be here, and a little surprised that I’ve been asked.”

He held the door open and waved me in. “Please come in. May I offer you some iced tea or water?” He ushered me into a small conference room with a round cherry table and leather chairs. I sat in one of the armchairs near the window and tried to inhale a few deep breaths. You are not in trouble, they only want to talk to you, and you don’t have to do anything.

“Iced tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Thad returned with a small tray containing a pitcher and several glasses, followed by a tall woman with curly brown hair pulled back in a twist. She looked imperious as she walked in, but her soft gray eyes sparkled with warmth.

“Mrs. Mueller, may I introduce Ms. Margaret Ellis, who has graciously driven up here from Santa Fe to meet with us.”

The formalities were short lived. Turned out, Mrs. Mueller’s title was “Guest Artist Liaison,” and she was much less formal than her initial appearance. I vaguely remembered her from a couple of meetings while I was apprenticing. Her face flushed pink with warmth, and she removed her jacket and then sat down next to me.

“Please call me Greta. I’m delighted you were able to come on short notice. Now if I may, let me cut to the chase.” She sighed loudly. “There is a very delicate issue I’d like to discuss and would rather it did not leave this room. Ms. Ellis, we would be very grateful if you could help us with this, but if not I’ll certainly understand. I had Thad call you because you worked in our apprentice program, but also because your background is in nursing.”

She took a deep breath and a large swallow of iced tea, and put the glass down in front of her but held it with both hands. Her facial expression turned serious. I said nothing, but she had my full attention.

“You are probably aware this summer’s repertoire includes a new production of La Traviata with Nicole Bernard. We’re all very excited about this new production, especially since Lars Logan will be guest directing.”

“Yes, I was thrilled when I read about it, probably the biggest draw of the season.” At least it would be for me. “I love that opera, and there is no singer I admire more than Nicole Bernard.”

“I believe it will be, judging by early ticket sales. And since you are already familiar with Madame, well…here’s the dilemma. Madame Bernard generally travels with her family because they use this engagement as a kind of vacation. This year however, her husband is unable to be with her. And her parents won’t be here until later. We feel it’s possible that she might need some assistance, though, as you might guess, she is not convinced of that.

“The second part of the dilemma is medical. She has developed a slight health problem. I don’t need to tell you these items are strictly confidential. It seems her blood sugar fluctuates unpredictably, and she has experienced several episodes where she collapses unexpectedly.”